


The Chronicles of Zamoksva

by WindowSil



Series: Kuriari Saves The World! [4]
Category: Dragon Quest IV, Dragon Quest Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindowSil/pseuds/WindowSil
Summary: In search of the best way to recall the wonderful memories of her past, Alena stumbles upon a magical item that may open her eyes to something important that happened way back when.
Relationships: Crifto | Kiryl/Alena
Series: Kuriari Saves The World! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933966





	The Chronicles of Zamoksva

Being alone in Castle Zamoksva was always a pleasure for the tsarevna. She laid down on her bed, seeing nothing but the blank ceiling, feeling nothing but the breeze of cool air coming from her window, hearing nothing but the rustling of the distant trees and the hooting of the mourning doves.

It had been quite a day, two days ago. She had learnt and successfully performed a secret martial arts technique that split her body into several identical copies, all connected yet sentient. She had experienced many existences at once, and now all those combined aches and pains from muscles strained in exercise were affecting her. Suffice it to say, the effects of her newly-learned Divide and Conquer technique had taken a toll on her body when she recombined. Her muscles felt expended. She had, for once in her life, spent the entire last day resting.

One part of her was incredibly relieved that the tourney had ended, and in her retaining her title as champion. But the other part of her felt a little empty and confused.

The thing was, she had lost a sense of direction. The tourney had been the primary thing on her mind while it was still in the future. It was her driving force, her motivation, to keep her title. Now that was in the past. She had fended off Psaro from taking her crown. So, what would she do now? It would be months before Endor held another tournament.

Maybe there were other sorts of tournaments in other places of the world? Perhaps she could request a private match against one of her former comrades? Possibly even Psaro the Manslayer himself, who she humiliated with style and grace the last time they fought? Hmm…

A thought occurred to Alena.

_Perhaps it is not future I should look forward to at moment. Perhaps what I must do in my current state of resting, is to recall wonderful memories of past. Aga, if only there was some manner of tool to accomplish such a task with ease! I wonder… Kiryl is priest, no? Has he been recording adventure log of our travels? I must to inquire! I wish to recount every detail of our adventure from moment I took step outside Zamoksva!_

Alena sat up in her bed, taking in one large breath of fresh air. While she still felt sore all over, that wasn’t going to stop her from taking a trip within the castle itself to Kiryl’s chambers, where she would hopefully find what she needed. Her limbs protested when she moved them, sending aches through her body, but she ignored the sensations. If she just took it slowly, her muscles would stay relaxed and the pain would go away. Off she went down the stairs, one step at a time. Upon reaching the priest’s room, however, she was surprised to find that the resident was not present. His clothes were gone from the hook on the wall. Alena suddenly remembered that Kiryl was settling back into his position as priest, and that meant running morning sermons at the church in Zalenagrad, the town just west of Zamoksva. He would probably be back by noon. At the moment, the sun was rising steadily in the sky, and Alena had time to peruse Kiryl’s belongings without him. Surely he wouldn’t mind, right? After all, Alena already told Kiryl she knew about the hidden picture he drew. It didn’t seem like he was hiding anything else.

The tsarevna began inspecting the bookshelf in the room. If it was an adventure log she was looking for, it was going to be a book. One by one, she took out books, opened their covers, and flipped through a few pages, stopping somewhere in the middle to read a line or two, and decided if it was the right book or not. Shame they weren’t easily distinguishable, but perhaps it was because these were… almost all the same kind of book. A Bible of sorts. Trust Kiryl to fill his room with religious texts. He needed spares as part of his job, of course. Alena couldn’t think of the exact reasons why, but she knew there must have been some valid purpose. Still, she kept on looking through the books, her mind recalling the secret she had found the first time she rummaged through Kiryl’s personal items…

Aha! There it is! Alena removed a book on theology titled ‘Faith and Prayer’ from the bookshelf. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for: A small piece of paper with its edges torn off, made to be small enough to fit within the pages of the book unnoticed to all but the tsarevna’s keen senses. On the paper was a delicately drawn depiction of herself, penned by the very person to place the picture there, Kiryl. The lineart was smooth, inked on without any splatters. The colour was dusted on with pastel-like colouring tools, some sort of dyed sand-like substance. It was nothing short of a masterpiece. That man had been practising, that’s for certain. Who knows how many rough sketches it must have taken before he could whip up such a creation?

Alena felt her cheeks rise as a very wide smile grew on her face. The absolute joy she felt took away her aches and pains from the morning. She let her eyes fall toward the page and focus on every little detail she could find. The image made her feel so happy. It was hard to put it into words, but the notion that someone admired her was a very flattering one. Growing up, Alena had no idea what people generally thought of her, being surrounded only by her father and the many stoic servants of the castle. People outside hadn’t a clue what Alena looked like, apart from the assumption she’d take after her mother, Zalena. This gave Alena the idea to pretend she wasn’t at all a princess when she first broke out for adventure. She didn’t want to be treated like one anymore, she wanted to forge her own destiny without being babied by her retainers. Seems she managed to shoo Borya away, but her other primary retainer had clung to her without fail. Kiryl was in love.

Of course, Alena knew that now, and understood this picture so much better. When she first came across the drawing, she thought it was a creation spawned from mere boredom. She had assumed Kiryl drew it in his free time when he had nothing better to do, and since Alena was one of the few people Kiryl saw often, she would make the perfect subject. But then why would he have hidden the drawing? Are all artists this shy about their work? Maybe so. But right now, the tsarevna knew it also stemmed from embarrassment and the desire to keep his feelings for her secret.

She let out a sigh as she stopped examining the fine details of the piece and looked at it as a whole. Never before had someone drawn her picture. The tsarevna was always out and about and on the move, so if anyone wanted to draw her, they’d have a hard time getting the right references. She simply could not keep still, even inside the castle! But Kiryl? He saw her everyday. Served her food. Chatted with her. Simply gazed at her. He knew her as well as the back of his hand, and as well as the Bibles he stored in abundance in his room. He didn’t need her to be there when he drew the image. Her appearance was burned into his eyes as if she was a solar eclipse too beautiful to ignore.

Alena felt proud to be the tsarevna. She had been willing to abandon her home, her family, her title… but now she no longer had to. She had found her place. She was Tsarevna Alena of Zamoksva, Champion of the Endor Tournament, and one of the legendary Chosen! And her trusty side-kick, Kiryl, would accompany her on every excursion! It was a satisfying conclusion to their great and long adventure.

Feeling quite warm inside, Alena finally decided to place the picture back where it belonged, and she returned the book to its proper place on the shelf once more. She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself in glee, relishing in that feeling of utter ecstasy for a good few moments…

* * *

Light passed through the stained-glass windows of the building, casting multi-coloured rays down onto the many pews inside the church. Children, adults and elderly alike knelt and prayed in silence. It was another calm morning in Zalenagrad. The head priest, a man in green robes and adorned with his signature Kalimavkion, had just finished giving a long sermon. It had been so long since Kiryl had properly given a sermon at mass. Sometimes, while he was confused in battle during the adventure with the Chosen, he would habitually begin reciting a sermon, but he hadn’t done a real one since many months ago, before their adventure began. Finally, he had returned to the motherland and assumed his position as the new head priest, and he was going to make his former mentor proud. Kiryl would be the most studious, diligent, honourable priest in the whole continent of Maestral.

Kiryl closed the Bible in front of him, leaving the many coloured bookmarks inside it. Pushing it to the side of the table where he stood, he made space for the next and final part of mass: the Eucharist. Every person would make their way to the altar, and Kiryl would give them a small piece of bread. It gave the man great joy to feed the laity, which often consisted of rather poor and needy folks. He had baked the bread with his own hands, a practice he had started since he was a child. Now, at eighteen years, he was no longer the one eagerly raising to his feet and marching giddily up to the priest for his snack. He WAS the priest, giving his blessed food to those who truly needed it. Kiryl smiled all the while, handing out the small pieces of bread onto the cupped hands of each person coming up to him, and then giving them a short blessing. He felt at home in the church walls, with the strong yet familiar scent of burning candles soothing the inside of his nose. The choir was chanting a melodic hymn as people began to exit the church.

A few children came up to Kiryl with some minor injuries. A few bruised knees, papercuts, scrapes here and there. He muttered a few words of prayer and let his hands hover over the spots of the wounds. His hands emitted a soft green glow, and before the kids knew it, their boo-boos were all better. Kiryl let himself chortle quietly.

This was his idea of the perfect life. He had spent his childhood working up to this point, and now he had achieved it. Priest by day, adventurer by night. A balance between relaxation and action. Mending wounds for innocents and inflicting wounds on wrongdoers. And he had the perfect partner to do the latter with.

Closing the church and exiting, Kiryl wondered what excitement Alena would bring to his day when he returned to Zamoksva castle. She was the spice keeping things from getting boring for him, after all. Perhaps they’d go on another one of their adventures today.

* * *

Back in Zamoksva, the little red-haired miscreant continued to trespass in the priest’s personal territory. She had checked every last book in the bookshelf, and none seemed to be an adventure log. So, where to search next? It wasn’t likely Kiryl kept anything of value in a boring old wardrobe, but while Alena was here, a mischievous little part of her took over and told her to look inside the first of the two wardrobes… but she didn’t find much. Lots of plain white clothes. Some of them rougher fabric, for the day, and some of them softer and warmer, for the night. And, not surprisingly, there were a lot of phials of holy water on the bottom of the inside of the wardrobe.

But before she left the wardrobe, she had to check the drawer underneath the big cabinet doors. There were lots of socks in a pile, much to Alena’s dismay… until she pulled the drawer out just a bit further, and she noticed something sparkly at the back of the drawer. Excited, she leaned in and reached to pull the object out.

It was a glass container in the shape of a heart, and it was heavy in Alena’s hands as she lifted it out and held it up in front of her, looking at its contents in wonder. Inside the container swirled sand in many directions, flowing from one end of the heart to the other and then back to where it started. It was mesmerizing to watch. A cork sealed the container shut, and, trusting the cork was plugged on it tightly, Alena decided to give the container a slight jiggle for fun. The golden sand sparkled as it flickered and went off course inside the container.

As the sand inside moved, Alena felt a buzzing vibration pulsing from the heart-shaped container, as if it was a real heart. She was suddenly hyper-aware of her breathing, which came in and out slowly, and when she blinked, her eyelids ever so gently clapped before reopening, moving slow as snails.

_Eh? It feels as if time is truly taking its time right now. Why is everything happening at such slow pace?_

The next time the princess blinked, her eyes moved much faster. In fact, her breathing felt normal once again as well. She took a closer look at the device she held; the sand was back on course and flowing normally. Looking even closer, each time she turned it around in her hands, she felt a bell of familiarity ring inside her head…

This wasn’t just a sand-filled container. It was an hourglass. And not just any hourglass, no, these were the Sands of Time. A mystical item that held the power to control time itself inside its glassy walls. Alena gasped in surprise.

_Yoy, the Sands of Time! I recall this item, procured from Cascade Cave during adventure of months ago. It was very much so useful in capturing those pesky metal king slimes. It would reverse time to restart encounter! Hm… what better way to reminisce of past memories than to revisit them myself?_

Alena’s idea gave her a feeling of determination and sheer excitement. She would be able to recall her memories perfectly without even needing an adventure log, because she would just watch the events herself!

There was only one problem. Alena didn’t know if the hourglass was capable of turning back time that far. But she was willing to risk it, and so she shook the container in her hands, throwing the sand inside off course, creating that heartbeat buzz again. She shook harder and harder, thinking that if a little jiggle caused a slow-down of time, then a large shake would surely spin time completely backwards.

As Alena jostled the container vigorously in her happy anticipation, she heard the faint chimes of a bell rise slowly in her ears. It wasn’t a bell of familiarity this time. Was the hourglass making this sound? No, wait. The church bells from Zalenagrad! Their sound carried all the way to Zamoksva. The bells chimed every day at noon. Which meant…

A warbled voice was suddenly noticeable to Alena, most of its words drowned out by the ever-increasing heartbeats that nearly overwhelmed her senses. “…the hourglass!” the voice cried as it came closer.

Despite how distorted the voice was when it entered her ears, Alena could still recognize that particular flavour to the voice. The deepness, the tone of worry, the occasional voice crack. It couldn’t be anyone else but her retainer, Kiryl, who had just arrived back in Zamoksva from the church.

Alena tried to move her head to look up to Kiryl, but she was moving so slowly. When she took her eyes off the Sands of Time, she felt it slip out of her hands. Somehow, her grip had been lost, and the hourglass began falling to the ground. The tsarevna felt a cold rush of sweat overcome her as she tried ever so hard to reach down and catch the hourglass, but with time surrounding her going so slow, all she could do is watch in stress as the hourglass made its way to the floor…

But before Alena knew it, a green blur had sped past her at seemingly-light speed! The Sands of Time had been swooped up before it hit the ground! Finally, she was able to lift her head up and see the man standing before him, the honourable priest who worked at Zalenagrad. “Kiryl!” she exclaimed in relief and happiness.

But the man before Alena was not sharing her joy. Terrified, Kiryl watched as golden sand spilled out of the lid of the container, the fallen cork rolling on the floor. The poor priest didn’t have a chance to formulate a single sentence to speak before the sands sparkled and swirled around him and his tsarevna, leaving them in utter shock. The sands twisted and turned and captured the two in a circle, and that’s when everything became distorted. It felt like they were spinning around each other, faster and faster, until…! Everything went black. Still. Silent.

* * *

The ink dripped from the quill. Extreme precision was needed to avoid messing this up. The ink stopped dripping. The quill was taken ever so gently to the paper on the desk. In smooth motions, the quill was dragged across the page, leaving a black trail behind it. The ink stained the paper, an irreversible mark. It outlined the features of a short lady, her most prominent feature being her long, curly hair, which contained many small black lines of detail. It was finally time to colour. With dyed powder, each body part received a dose of appropriate colour. The image was coming together. The artist stared at his creation for a long minute. He was proud of it.

“Oh, Tsarevna…” Kiryl sighed. “If ever anything occurs to you, I shall to forever remember you by this illustration… but I hope one day I may have nerves to inform you of my feelings before such an event ever occurs… even if we cannot be together, I wish for you to know you are cared for. Truly.”

The priest turned red in the face. His eyes began to well up with his emotions. He placed the paper back down on the desk, not risking having any tears drop on the picture and ruin it. He started to cry, long and hard. Looking into the trash bin next to his desk, Kiryl saw many crumpled up balls of paper, some splattered with black ink, some also dusted with colour. It had taken an uncountable amount of attempts before he was finally satisfied with his drawing. Now tears flowed from his eyes as he smiled to himself to celebrate his success.

Putting his hands together, he softly recited a prayer for Alena. “May you be forever blessed by the Goddess, protected from harm, and given the strength to achieve your goals. I ask nothing more. I do not require recognition for my efforts, I only wish to know that Tsarevna is safe. I will do anything for her, even if it means being the priest to officiate her wedding to another man. As long as…” he sniffled, “As long as she is happy.”

The priest wiped his tears off his face with his sleeve. Tenderly picking up the piece of paper with the drawing on it once more, he decided he would place it somewhere hidden for safekeeping. He settled on his favourite religious text: ‘Faith and Prayer’. Right on the page that marked the beginning of the ‘praising’ section, the picture of Alena was neatly tucked in.

Meanwhile, two floors up, a young and energetic tsarevna sat in her room, jittery and perturbed. “The poor woman was being harassed by platypunks! The guard said just so! Why had I no permission to leave castle and assist?” She scrunched her eyebrows, grit her teeth and clenched her fists, showing all kinds of signs of anger. “I am of sixteen years, and still they lack trust and belief in me? I, I will simply have to prove to them their wrongness!”

The tsarevna suddenly turned to her exposed bedroom wall, and bolted for it. With one leap, she furiously swung her leg forward for a forceful kick. Her foot connected with the stone bricks of the wall and sunk into the stone a good few inches, leaving the surrounding stone cracked and malformed. Then gravity took its effect and Alena stumbled to the floor, having lost balance. But when she pulled herself up to witness the damage she had just done to her wall, a strong feeling of ‘I told you so’ rose within her. Her resolve was not at all disturbed by the soreness she now felt in her leg. She would continue to push herself until she broke down her wall, escaped from Zamoksva, and beat up the monsters in the area until no more dared threaten the castle. That was her plan. Her father would have to notice her strength then. So she wound herself back up for another go at the wall. Another flying kick, and the stone went crumbling down out of the castle! The way was clear! She quickly hopped down to the lower roof of the castle, then down onto the ground, and then… there was the great, wide world in front of her. She had only ever seen small slits of it through the few windows in the castle. Now the whole horizon was visible. She couldn’t help but stop just to take in the sights as her breath was taken away…

“There she is! Seize her!” called out a rough man’s voice. Alena turned around, a pit of fear in her throat. She felt like a criminal caught red-handed. Zamoksvan guards were running her way—they must have heard her breaking down her wall. There was no way she could try to fight them all and knock them out. She only had one option: Run.

Her little legs took her away from the castle as fast as they could, but to no avail. Not ten seconds later, the guards had caught up with her and grasped her arms, holding her in place as she squirmed. “Unhand me! As Tsarevna, I command you—”

Alena was interrupted by the sight of her father stepping in front of her. She gasped and shrunk in the guard’s grip, no longer making an effort to break free. “H-Hi, Father…!”

The tsar sighed with a facepalm. “Alena… we must have discussion. Guards, return her to throne room.”

Alena wanted to fight, but she was outnumbered. She’d have to give in for now. Back in the throne room, Alena argued for herself adamantly. “But Father, if I could demolish wall of stone, surely I could crush any puny monsters roaming around castle?!”

“Monsters around castle, perhaps. But if you venture too far, and monsters become aware that you are tsarevna, not just mere commonfolk, I fear more dangerous creatures may attempt to take your head…” Stepan continued rambling on through his lecture, effectively guilt-tripping his daughter into compliance. Alena gave up her stand for the night. However, she did secretly plan to sneak out on another occasion, at a time where she most certainly would not be caught…

* * *

It was a warm summer day, and a young boy had journeyed from his home of Zalenagrad to Zamoksva castle. It was the first of what would be many regular trips to the castle to be mentored by the current head priest. The kid wore navy blue attire to match his blue hair. A cute little suit with a white shirt and white pants, as well as a small beanie-like hat on his head. The boy hugged a book as big as his torso as he walked with a chaperone through the entrance of the castle, toward the chapel on the right side. “Don’t worry, Kiryl,” said the gentleman that gently pushed Kiryl’s back and guided him in the right direction. “Priest is very nice. You will be friends with him, I am certain.” The little boy nodded his head, but he looked rather nervous, still.

The two stopped in their tracks at the sound of vicious whining coming from across the room. “Ah, it is Tsarevna Alena,” remarked the chaperone. “Would you like to see Tsarevna, Kiryl?” he asked, looking down at the kid, who simply looked back curiously. “Hm? No? Alright, then, let us continue.” The man continued walking, leaving Kiryl behind, still frozen in place.

The cries increased in volume and intensity. Kiryl took a few steps, and around the garden bushes that had previously obscured his view, he spied a tiny tiny girl with fluffy orange hair whining and wailing. Something white had fallen on the floor in a wet puddle. It was something Kiryl had never seen before, only heard of—a treat only the rich could afford. It was ice cream, and it had fallen from the tsarevna’s cone and onto the carpet. That’s why she was crying. The large man near her was giving some orders to the nearby servants before returning to his daughter to comfort her, but the girl wanted none of it. Alena instead screamed and ran up to one of the stone pillars in the room, and kicked it with all her might to release her anger. Kiryl watched in surprise as the pillar seemed to move… there were cracks near its base where Alena had kicked it, and now it seemed the pillar was going to topple down entirely… in his direction! THUD! The pillar landed on the floor and sent a gust of wind shaking Kiryl’s clothes, hair, and his very soul, resulting in him dropping his book onto the floor. If the pillar had landed just one foot to the left, it would have crushed him. As Kiryl stared in shock at the fallen pillar that lay right before him, he felt as if he no longer needed to ask where the bathrooms of the castle were.

After a moment, Kiryl finally could move himself again, slowly shaking off the petrifying feeling, and he peered over to where he last saw Alena. The girl’s mouth was now stuffed with cookies, and she seemed complacent. “Tsarevna…” he said slowly and softly, testing out the word on his tongue. If he was going to be visiting this castle often, he might as well get to know everyone and their names and titles. Hopefully this ‘Tsarevna’ wouldn’t accidentally almost kill him next time, though. He felt rather afraid of her, and decided to get going on his way to the chapel before anything else dangerous happened. He picked his book back up and carefully made his way over to the side room where the chaperone and priest were waiting for him.

“Ah, there you are,” came a very deep and calm voice when Kiryl entered the room. “What is book you possess, there, my child? May I see it?” asked the priest. The boy held out the book he carried, and he let the man take it from him. The gentleman who had escorted him to the castle gave him a gentle pat on the back before departing, leaving the two alone. “Faith and Prayer,” the priest read, flipping through the pages. “This is what you have been studying at home, yes?” Kiryl nodded. “I see. Before we get into this, I would like for us to begin with a short activity.”

“What are we doing, Father?” Kiryl inquired as politely as he could.

The priest set down the book on a table, and then knelt down to meet Kiryl’s level. He held out his hand toward Kiryl and showed a small red mark on one of his fingers. It was a papercut. “I want you to heal this wound for me.”

“B-But, I have never casted Heal spell before,” replied Kiryl.

“Then this will be your first time. Think as if you are praying, as if you are making supplication of Goddess for to bless and rejuvenate our bodies, and you shall feel your magic flow… I sense your potential, boy. Believe, and you may accomplish this.”

Kiryl gulped, worried he wouldn’t be able to do it and would lose all hope of becoming a priest. He brought his hands around the man’s finger and closed his eyes to pray. His brows furrowed in distress as he tried to formulate a supplication in his mind, concerned it wouldn’t be good enough. But then he suddenly realized he was not hopeless. He thought back to his favourite book, ‘Faith and Prayer’. It had taught him how to pray. One of the types of prayer was supplication. A humble request to the higher powers. And when it was a selfless request, it was much more likely to be granted. Taking deep breaths, Kiryl prayed in his head, thinking about the exact words given as examples in the book.

_Please to work, please, please, please…_

“Heal,” the kid said out loud when he believed he had finished praying. He trusted it would work. Trusted the priest, the Goddess, and himself. Upon speaking the word, he felt a cool, refreshing feeling enveloping his hands. He opened his eyes and noticed his hands were glowing a faint greenish colour. Then before he knew it, the glow faded completely away. But when Kiryl inspected the priest’s finger, he was happy to learn that the papercut had completely vanished. “I did it!!” Kiryl exclaimed.

* * *

It was a quiet day in the castle. No servants roamed the halls. No guards watched the entrances. One woman sat in solitude in the throne room. In her arms she cradled a baby. Tenderly, she stroked the baby’s soft tuft of hair on her head. The baby looked surprised, and tried to grab her mother’s hand. The woman chuckled. “You’re funny, Alena,” she said with a sweet voice.

After a moment, the lady sighed. “I’m going to go soon, Alena. My deepest apologies that I cannot continue to live with you. I have contracted fatal malady that will soon stop my heart. It is not contagious, thank the Goddess, but… your father and the many servants of our castle have been searching everywhere for cure, and have had no luck. I can feel my life force fading… so permit me to chat with you in my final moments, my darling.”

The baby Alena looked confused.

“I can tell you’ve got fiery spirit, ever since first time I breastfed you. I wish for you to know this: I have always wished to partake in competitions of strength, to become mighty fighter and protect Zamoksva alongside your father. But I was far too shy… perhaps if you have some of your father’s bravery, you may be able to finish my quest for me, aha! But do not worry if you possess contradicting aspirations. You should do whatever your heart tells you to; that’s what will truly bring you joy. However the stars align, I trust the Goddess has a plan for you that will exceed my every expectation.” She booped Alena’s nose, and the baby started giggling. “Goodnight, my darling Alena. I’ll be cheering you on from heaven. I love you.”

Tsarina Zalena relaxed in the throne, her breathing slowing down to a halt. She appeared sickly and pale, and her skin had gone cold. When Alena no longer felt the comforting rocking of her mother’s arms, she began to cry.

Voices became audible, muffled through the door. Then the door slammed open and the voices were louder and more numerous, accompanied by stomping footsteps. Louder than the rest was one voice Alena recognized very well—her father’s. Tsar Stepan gently scooped Alena out from his wife’s lap and handed her to one of the court mages, Borya. He then knelt over the tsarina and checked her pulse… it was gone. She was gone. Alena’s crying got worse when she was in unfamiliar hands. But Stepan was too distraught to give her relief. He tightly clutched the feverfew root in his hand. It was too late. The chatter increased, the anger, the confusion, the sorrow, mumbling and indistinguishable, echoing, and above it all, Alena kept bawling and bawling; the most awful sound in the world.

* * *

Tears streamed down Alena’s face as she stared blankly towards the back of Kiryl’s room. Her legs gave out from underneath her, and she collapsed to her knees. She weeped into the palms of her hands, utterly heartbroken. Kiryl could not suppress his tears either, but he kept his composure well enough to stay standing.

“It all felt so real…” whimpered Alena between sobs. “Mother, she, she was there, and, she spoke to me, but then she—!” She let out a series of distorted whines.

Kiryl immediately wished to comfort her, but before he could step over to her, the cork for the hourglass still remained on the floor. And the Sands of Time were still in his hands—it seemed the sand had re-entered the container after the two were brought back to present-day. He hurried to push the cork back in the lid and seal the container shut, so he could put it away where it would be safe. He then removed his orange scarf, unfolded it, and offered it to Alena as a pseudo-handkerchief. She took it gratefully, rubbed the tears from her face off into it, and blew her nose into it. Kiryl helped pull the girl onto his bed where she could sit comfortably. She blew her nose again. The tears kept coming. The priest took a seat beside her and stayed silent while he let the princess feel what she needed to feel.

Minutes went by, and Alena finally calmed down enough to speak. “You experienced it, too, nyet? Visions of our pasts…”

“Indeed, yes,” responded Kiryl, his voice steady and therapeutic. “Your mother Tsarina would be exceedingly proud of you and of how far you have come, Alena. It is no wonder you take after her name. You are more like her than you have previously pondered.” The man smiled, though his face was also stained wet and painted red.

“You are correct…!” Alena agreed. A smile formed on her face. “Once again, Kiryl, you help me to see truth. Thank you.” She turned to him and leaned in for a hug. And it was a rather strong one, too. Kiryl nearly lost his breath from how hard Alena squeezed his chest. Then she finally released it, looking down at her own lap in embarrassment. “…That was hug I never had chance to give Mother.”

Kiryl felt his eyes well up again. He sniffled. “It was most pleasurable… Oh, I recall time I underwent severe illness of similar type. You made most valiant effort to locate feverfew root for to cure me before I passed. I felt truly loved…”

“I am glad you were able to be rescued, Kiryl. I do not know how I would have went on without you.” Her smile grew, and she turned to face her friend once more. “I, I’m glad you are here right now. I am glad to be talking to you… Of all stories I heard of Mother, she was picturesque gentlewoman. Is why I always wished to meet her. Now I have, and have found out the stories were true! So true… merely lacking one detail she kept secret, it seems. Her ambitions.”

“It elates me to hear of your joy in at last learning of your mother. A beautiful woman, she was. You have her eyes… and her hair.”

“Heheh, thank you~” Alena giggled. She seemed satisfied with that subject, and decided to branch her thoughts elsewhere while she was in a comedic mood. “I cannot believe I cried about ice cream…”

“I cannot fathom how you knocked down castle pillar and nearly took my life!”

Her giggle became a laugh, Kiryl joining in smoothly. “And then I had cookies stuffed in my mouth!”

“Clueless me had no notion that I’d end up falling in love with you! …Ah, but over time, my fear of you turned to sheer admiration… you were exact person I always wished to be when I was younger, before I found my passion for religion. Never did I forget hopes to be travelling adventurer, if only I had the courage and strength… and when I joined party of yours, you provided those things for me.”

“Do not forget drawing of me you produced. It was pleasant to feel as if I were you making the drawing in that strange vision… your warm words moved me.”

The two kept paying each other compliments until both were chuckling and chortling their breath away.

“There is still much daylight,” Kiryl remarked. “What say you that we venture outdoors and make use of it?”

“I have premium idea! If Mother wishes me to be superlative fighter, then that is just what I shall be! Let us to train and discover more new techniques to use in battle!” Alena declared triumphantly, marching out of the room with a determination, leaving Kiryl to happily gather his things and follow along.

* * *

And so, just as Kiryl had imagined on his walk home from Zalenagrad, the two set off on an adventure together. Alena spent a good portion of their time practising her Divide and Conquer skill. Many Alenas battled many platypunks, getting revenge on the ones from the vision. Kiryl cheered her on from the sidelines. Later, back as a whole, Alena simply tried some new things. With her body’s magic pumping, she attempted to harness it into new martial arts techniques she invented on the fly. It came easily for her, now that she had practice. The first ability was “Roaring Tirade”, a forceful blast of wind from her hands that knocked enemies down and sometimes launched small enemies out of battle entirely! The next ability was “Wind Sickles”, a series of energy beams sent from her hands at high speeds that cut through grass and enemies alike! Another ability was “Steel Splitter”, an electrified uppercut that sent jolts through mechanical enemies, short-circuiting them! She taught herself a few other new techniques as well, simply trying whatever she thought might look cool, and managing to beat up her foes in the process. Her retainer watched in awe as she crushed every enemy a different way each time. Eventually, she felt her body weakening as her MP ran out at last.

The sun was beyond the horizon and Kiryl and Alena were back inside the castle of Zamoksva, inside Kiryl’s room again. “You said you had purpose for us to return here, Kiryl?” Alena asked, curious as to why he had led her here again without explanation.

“I wish for you to keep this.” The priest pulled out a book from his bookshelf. The title read ‘Faith and Prayer’. He flipped through the pages carefully until coming across the small paper wedged between two pages. He pulled it out and held it out toward Alena, smiling. “Is for you.”

The tsarevna’s eyes glittered as she looked up to her friend. “Truly? But it is your drawing, not mine! You should keep it!” she protested, eyes drawn up in concern. She didn’t want Kiryl to be giving up the drawing that had made him so happy.

The priest shook his head, his smile not fading. “I created this piece months ago and looked at it many times. Now it is you who deserves to see it more than I. After all, I created it in hopes of one day gifting it to you. So, please, take it.”

Alena’s eyes watered as she slowly and carefully accepted the paper she was given. “Th-Thank you…!” As her tears were about to fall from her eyes and onto the page, the young woman felt a gentle brush of cloth scooping upward from under her lower eyelashes, catching the tear. It was Kiryl’s gloved finger. It wiped her tears. The man then placed his hand under the girl’s chin and tenderly tilted her head upward to look at his face, which bore an expression of utter love and admiration. The smile, the sparkle in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks, the fading sunlight coming through the window casting a reddish glow on him… he had a mysterious charm Alena couldn’t quite describe. But it drew her in and gave her comfort. And joy. Seeing him happy made her happy.

“I have one further surprise for you,” Kiryl explained, turning to walk over to one of his wardrobes. It was the second one he owned, the one Alena hadn’t rummaged through that morning. He opened the bottom drawer. On the left side was a pile of folded clothes. A rather small, navy blue outfit. On the right side, there was a thick tome with a ribbon bookmark stuck partway through it. Kiryl hauled out the book and showed it to his friend. “I never inquired as to why you attempted to use Sands of Time, but I assume you were in fact in search of this. It is my diary. But let us dub it our Adventure Log, for all my stories revolve around you.” His voice was as sweet as sugar, and Alena felt like she was having a sugar rush of joy. “Come, let us be to your chambers, and I will read it to you as bed-time story.”

Kiryl tucked Alena into her bed and sat on the edge, reading from the diary starting at the very beginning. His voice was musical, with intonations giving the story depth and emotion. He voice-acted every line of dialogue. He said onomatopoeia out loud. And best of all, he held Alena’s hand the whole while.

By the time he had finished the first ‘chapter’, night had completely fallen, and the stars were out. It was time for rest, and the reading would continue the next day. After they exchanged good night wishes and Kiryl left, Alena looked out her window. Amongst the many stars in the sky, one twinkled just a bit brighter than the rest.

_Goodnight, Mother. I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> Wow!!! Time travel! That’s right, when Alena dropped the Sands of Time, the cork fell off, and time started flowing backwards! The sparkly sand surrounded Kiryl and Alena, the two nearest subjects, and whisked them into the past. The catch is, they didn’t have bodies to control in the past or anything - it was more like visions. They both experienced each other’s memories, without having control over what happened. It was like they both watched a first-person video of those scenes I described. Hopefully that makes sense! I tried to keep it ambiguous in the story for suspense and mystery, hehe. But I think the time travel idea was obvious enough with all the build-up I placed before it.
> 
> So! This is pretty much my excuse to write about their pasts. I’ve imagined these scenes from their past and wanted to write them out, but it would be far too boring to write the little scenes separately, so I put them all together in this sequence of visions the two witness via another broken DQIV item, the Sands of Time!
> 
> And then they get the chance to comment about their pasts and have sweet wholesome time together. So of course I take this chance to make them be cuties with their compliments and their hugging and their crying! Ahh, I cried writing this episode ajkshfjkdsg this is totally my favourite episode I’ve written so far!! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
